


Sworn to Protect

by orphan_account



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Gen, High Chaos, Post-High Chaos Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corvo Attano's only purpose was to serve and protect the Kaldwin family; he had failed Jessamine, and it seemed that now, he was forced to fail Emily as well. AU where Corvo has to kill a grown-up Emily after the High Chaos ending of Dishonored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sworn to Protect

                Emily Kaldwin had ascended the throne in her youth upon a pile of corpses left behind by a vengeful spirit of the Void, an assassin with a skull for a face and a cloak made of the blood of those he'd slain. The assassin who'd aided Emily in her ascension was unmasked at her coronation and revealed to be Corvo Attano, and the young Empress's first act was to pardon the Serkonan of all crimes – both those he had not committed and those that weighed heavily on his heart alike. Reinstalled as the Lord Protector, Corvo was tasked with guarding the child Empress, standing at her side as she began a bloody reign of tyranny, casting a dark shadow over the once revered Kaldwin name.

                As Emily grew, so did her tyranny. The people of the Empire dared not speak against her for fear of invoking her wrath in all corners of the Empire, even in their own homes where only the shadows and walls were present to hear their hushed whispers. The Empress inflicted harsh punishment with little warning, sending many officials who dared oppose her to the gallows or the executioner's block for the smallest of offenses. Any who made attempts on the Empress's life was lucky if Corvo cut them down where they stood, for those who survived were sent to Coldridge, made to endure the same horrors Corvo himself once suffered for six months before being publicly executed, the headsman's axe a mercy after all that had been inflicted upon them. Emily saw enemies everywhere, both real and imaginary; in her court, whom many would rather be dead than a part of, in the city of Dunwall where she resided, even in the shadows where nothing but dust resided. Emily's paranoia only grew stronger with each passing year, and with it, her wrath.

                As Emily aged, growing into a fair young woman, then becoming a lady approaching her middle age, Lord Protector Corvo Attano, too, grew older. The crimes in his heart and his weariness of his Empress's tyrannical rule aged him beyond his sixty-nine years. His dark brown hair turned as white as sea foam and his face paled, skin darkening around the eyes in a permanent expression of exhaustion, wrinkles marring a face once considered handsome. Corvo could still wield a blade, should the occasion call for it -- he had fended off many attackers seeking Empress Emily's life -- and yet, he had grown weary of it. Enough blood had been spilled, he thought, enough lives had been cut needlessly short. Emily left behind her a path of corpses, much like Corvo had before her, and all Corvo wished for, with every fiber of his being, was for the needless death to come to an end. However, it seemed that the death would only cease if Emily's own life came to a close.

                Corvo refused to admit it in the beginning. Turning his blade on Emily, for whom he had fought so hard, was a crime so vile that he didn't dare dream of it, pushing the dark thoughts from his mind as soon as they came to light. Emily was more than Corvo's charge; he'd fathered her, protected her and raised her up from birth, watched as she blossomed into a bright young girl and as the death of her mother and the decay of Dunwall turned her innocent child's spirit into something much darker, something that invoked fear in others and yet was afraid for itself. Corvo loved her, loved her with all of his heart; a father's love for his daughter never waned, even after the horrors of Coldridge mangled his soul and turned him into a creature thirsting for blood. However, despite his love for her, despite all that he had done in her name, Corvo wasn't blind to what Emily had become; a blight upon the Empire, a tyrannical horror whom many were too afraid to curse even in secret. And this was something Corvo couldn’t bear to subject the Empire to; for despite how much he cared for Emily, he cared for the Empire and its people just as much, his thirst for blood subsiding with age. As time went on, Corvo pondered more and more on what to do, on how to end this problem of tyranny -- and, more and more, Corvo's mind turned to turning his blade on she whom he loved most.

                Corvo's window of opportunity was closing swiftly, this much he knew; the weakening Serkonan would not live for much longer, and Emily, if kept safe, could outlive him by many decades. The Lord Protector, therefore, finally decided to act. It was the second day of the Month of Rain -- Emily's birthday -- when he persuaded her to dine in her quarters, alone with him, rather than in the safe house among the other guards. Corvo was the only person whom Emily truly trusted, and so convincing her to take supper with him and only him took little effort. Corvo arranged to have their meal delivered to them in Emily's quarters at nine, and the Lord Protector met his Empress there fifteen minutes before supper was due.

                Corvo, dressed in his Lord Protector's uniform, walked into Emily's quarters to see her standing before her mirror and tugging a brush through her long, dark brown hair, working out the artificial curls and tangles -- so much like her mother, Corvo thought to himself. The woman was dressed in a pale blue nightgown, her feet bare on the marble floor. Emily turned and glanced over her shoulder as Corvo entered the room; her makeup, which had been so carefully applied earlier that morning, had been washed off, revealing premature wrinkles around her mouth, nose, and eyes, the exhaustion that seemed permanently settled on her features. Living in constant paranoia was a tiring way to live, aiding in Emily's premature aging. All of the added years on her face, however, seemed to vanish as she smiled, a sincere, warm expression much unlike the cold, stoic mask that so often graced her features during the day.

                "Good evening, Corvo," Emily greeted in a light voice -- a tone she only adopted in Corvo's presence -- as she turned fully to face the Lord Protector. She held the brush at her side, her slender fingers playing with the handle. Emily could never keep her hands still, Corvo observed with sad amusement.

                The Serkonan forced a smile on his lips and bowed shallowly in greeting, remaining formal even in private. It was an act ingrained in his psyche, a reflex, almost, when greeting the Empress. In the past, he had always been required to show the proper respect to Emily and her mother despite how close they were. "Good evening," he replied, his now-hoarse voice still carrying the honeyed weight of a thick Serkonan accent. At his bow, Emily laughed; a light laugh, a laugh that brought back memories of happier days. Corvo's heart ached at the sound.

                "You don't need to be so formal with me, Corvo," Emily stated, gesturing to the table and chairs that had been brought into her quarters from the other room. "Come, sit."

                Corvo nodded in acknowledgement and walked over to the table, taking a seat upon one of the chairs. Wine had already been brought in -- a new bottle, for Emily never drank from a bottle that had already been opened -- and beside the bottle stood two wine glasses, their crystal rims lined with gold leaf. The wine was a Tyvian vintage, one of Emily's favorites, the dark red liquid glimmering in the bright light of Emily's quarters.

                Another, smaller object weighed down in Corvo's pocket, and on his heart as well; it was a little bottle filled with a clear liquid, poison imported from Tyvia, much like the wine he and Emily would share tonight. It was the same poison that the Loyalists had used in their attempt to kill him after the Lord Regent's death; a sweet liquid that blended perfectly -- too perfectly -- with Tyvian wine. It was nearly undetectable, its effects going unnoticed until it was too late to attempt to prevent death. Corvo had it smuggled in at great personal expense, and now the little bottle was in his possession, its contents ready for use. Corvo would have to find a way to sneak it into Emily's glass -- not an easy task, but one Corvo had done before.

                Emily sat down across from Corvo, sighing softly as she settled into her seat. The Empress had left her brush on her dresser, and now she ran her fingers through her hair, tilting her head to the side. She glanced over at her Lord Protector, who quickly met her gaze; Corvo didn't want to give Emily reason to be suspicious. Even for Corvo it was easy for him to arouse Emily's suspicions, her paranoia eating at her mind.

                "I decided that I will retire immediately after dinner," Emily said, explaining her choice of dress for supper. She gestured down at her nightgown with both hands. "I hope that you don't mind me wearing this to supper."

                "Not at all," Corvo assured his charge, allowing the nightgown a quick glance. It was a short-sleeved garment, the collar and the ends of the puffed sleeves lined with dark blue lace. It had been custom-made, commissioned from a seamstress in one of the richer districts in Dunwall. It was nothing like the handiwork of the old tailor who once sewed the formal attire of the late Empress Jessamine and her daughter, but it was a fine garment all the same. Corvo didn't allow himself to admire it, though, instead shifting his gaze to the wine bottle on the table.

                Emily rested her hands on the table, impatient tapping her fingers against the dark wood. She was always restless; in her childhood she channeled her energy into art, painting vivid pictures that turned darker after her mother's death. Now, she simply fidgeted anxiously, her fingers always searching for something to fiddle with. Corvo missed the days where she painted dearly, even the days when her beautiful pictures began to take a dark turn. The Empress of the Isles pursed her lips, obviously searching for something to say.

                "I assume that you wanted to talk in private with me, considering that you wanted to dine alone with me," Emily finally murmured, reaching over and grabbing one of the wine glasses. Corvo watched her slender fingers run along the golden rim, her nails scraping gently against the crystal.

                "You know I was never one for talking, Emily," the Serkonan replied smoothly, resisting the urge to reach into his pocket and feel for the vial of poison. "I simply wanted to have a quiet supper with you; it is your birthday, after all." He forced another smile, his cheeks feeling heavy.

                A small smile ghosted across Emily's lips. "Of course," she said softly, looking down at the wine glass in her hand. With her other hand, she pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Corvo swallowed thickly and stared down at the table, resting his hands in his lap so that he could fidget without being seen. A knot formed in his gut as he thought of what he would have to do tonight -- it seemed so much _easier_ simply thinking about it in the darkness and privacy of his own thoughts, but now, here, sitting before Emily, the reality of what he was to do finally dawned on him. All of Corvo's effort went into trying not to visibly tremble.

                A few moments passed and there was a knock on the door. Emily immediately set down her wine glass and looked up, sitting up straight and raising her chin.

                "Come in," the middle-aged woman commanded, her voice adopting a cold tone. Corvo simply sat in silence, pursing his lips and straightening his posture as much as he could bear. A small, painful twinge shot up his spine at the action; his back had been bothering him for a while now.

                The door opened, revealing a guard and a servant girl carrying a tray. The guard held the door open for the servant girl as she hurried into Emily's quarters, casting her gaze to the floor without daring to look her Empress in the eye. Quickly and silently she set the tray down on Emily's desk and picked up two platters, one in each hand, and carried them over to the table where the Empress and her Lord Protector sat. Salmon and vegetables was tonight's supper -- the salmon being one of Emily's favorite dishes. The servant girl set the platters down before the two sitting at the table, then bowed deeply in the direction of the Empress.

                "Stay where you are," Emily growled at the servant girl and the guard at the door before turning to Corvo, gesturing at the platters before them. "Corvo?"

                Corvo was always in charge of tasting Emily's food to check for poison; Emily would trust no one else to do the deed, suspecting all of her previous taste-testers of keeping antidotes on them or hiding food rather than swallowing it. Corvo picked up a fork that had come with his platter and stood, walking over to Emily's side. He speared a corner off of the salmon and tasted it, along with the vegetables on the platter. He let the food sit in his mouth for a while, searching for any odd taste, before swallowing; all seemed well, and the servant and guard were dismissed, once again leaving Emily and her Lord Protector in privacy.

                "Will you pour the wine?" Emily asked, shedding the ice cold tone from her voice and nodding at the bottle on the table once Corvo was once again seated. The Serkonan nodded wordlessly and reached over for the bottle, grabbing it and pulling the cork before pouring the red liquid into each of their glasses.

                _It's now or never_ , Corvo thought to himself as he poured wine into Emily's glass, staring at the stream of liquid trickling into the glass. He briefly considered using the powers the Outsider had given him, but their strength waned as he grew older -- and besides, the glow of Corvo's Mark on his bare hand immediately before and after the use of his abilities would give him away to Emily. Swallowing thickly, Corvo set down the bottle of wine once Emily's glass was full and reached into his pocket.

                "If you'll just wait a moment," Corvo muttered, pulling the little bottle from his pocket.

                "What is that?" Emily demanded, suspiciously eyeing the bottle in Corvo's hand. The Serkonan drew a deep breath, deciding how he could play this off.

                "The Royal Physician suggested that I give you this tonic," Corvo lied. "It's a sleep aid, so that you can rest through the night." He pulled the cork on the bottle and reached across the table for Emily's glass. "I've been using it for a while now," he added, "And it works rather well."

                Emily pursed her lips, watching but saying and doing nothing as Corvo took her glass and poured a generous amount of liquid into the wine. Only a small amount would be enough to put an end to the Empress's life; she wasn't as resilient against the poison as Corvo was, and wouldn't survive nearly the amount that he had in the past. The Serkonan thanked the stars that Emily trusted him as much as she did; if anyone else had tried to put something in her food, claiming it was medicine, she would have Corvo cut them down on the spot, even if it was the Royal Physician himself administering it.

                "I suppose I can try it," she grumbled. "Must it go into the wine?"

                "Yes," Corvo replied. "This is why I have a glass each night." A blatant lie, but Emily was never around to watch Corvo prepare for bed. She was always locked in her quarters by the time Corvo even began to consider sleep.

                "Will you have some?"

                It was all Corvo could do to keep from freezing in his spot, simply setting Emily's glass in front of her without looking her in the eye. "Of course," he replied as smoothly as he could manage, forcing himself to look up into Emily's face. Her expression was unsure, the light in her eyes cautious with the slightest hint of suspicion. Without breaking eye contact, Corvo poured the rest of the poison into his glass, emptying the bottle and setting it on the table next to the taller bottle of wine.

                "You must let it sit," the Serkonan said. "The medicine gets stronger if you leave it in for a little while. Come, eat."

                The two began to eat in silence, with Emily quietly enjoying the birthday supper presented to her. Corvo ate slowly, the food tasting like ash on his tongue and catching in his throat with almost every swallow. He wanted to reach for his wine, but no, it was laced with poison -- if he drank now, the poison would begin to take effect before Emily could drink her own wine, and she would live while Corvo died, failing at his task. So he waited, simply eating in dreadful silence as the moments slipped by. Emily seemed to be enjoying herself; for even though she wasn't engaging in conversation, she seemed to be enjoying Corvo's presence, finding happiness in this private moment with him.

                "You can drink now, if you wish," Corvo said once Emily was almost done with her meal. As she reached for her wine glass, he added, "Drink slowly; if you drink it too fast, it will make you feel ill."

                "Is that so?" Emily questioned, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip. Corvo felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat; he wanted to scream, to grab the glass from Emily's hand and fling it across the room, to keep her from drinking the deadly brew, but no. This had to be done. This was for the Empire, and for her. Emily couldn't live in fear, and her Empire couldn't last much longer under her wrath. Corvo's gut twisted into a knot, illness settling in his stomach.

                Corvo wordlessly nodded, watching as Emily swallowed her sip of wine and set the glass down again. "It's a bit sweet," the Empress remarked, returning to her salmon. "I thought this wine was drier?"

                "The medicine changes its taste slightly," Corvo muttered, staring down at his plate. He didn't want to eat, but he forced himself to spear a mouthful of _something_ \-- anything -- with his fork and shove it into his mouth. He chewed until what was in his mouth was nothing but tasteless paste before swallowing, refusing to look up.

                Emily drank some more, taking a sip with every few bites of food. She'd finished half the glass of wine when Corvo looked up and noticed that her pale face looked a bit paler, her hands shaking as she lifted her fork to her mouth. The poison was kicking in, Corvo knew it. Soon she would be dizzy, and then --

                "I feel a bit ill," Emily said, letting her fork drop back on her plate. She began to stand, slowly lifting herself from her chair. Corvo could see that it took a great deal of effort for her to keep herself steady. "I think... I think I'm going to go ahead to bed..."

                Corvo immediately stood, walking over to Emily's side. "Here," he murmured, taking her arm in his hand and leading her over to her bed. "I'll --" His voice caught in his throat, and he tried to swallow. His mouth tasted like cotton. "I'll have the servants come and clean up the food."

                Emily opened her mouth to reply, but not a single sound passed over her lips before she stumbled and fell, Corvo barely catching her before she collapsed onto the marble floor. The Empress cried out, then groaned; the sound ripped through Corvo like a blade, his arms shaking as he carried her to her bed and gently set her down. This was it; the poison was taking its toll.

                "Corvo?" Emily's hands fumbled for the front of Corvo's coat as he set her down, her fingers curling into the thick, dark fabric. Her voice wavered, going shrill with growing fear. "Corvo?! I can't -- Everything is --!" Her grip on Corvo's coat was like iron, however her hands trembled violently -- whether from fear, or from the poison, or both, Corvo couldn't say.

                "Hush," Corvo murmured, sitting down on the bed beside Emily and holding her in his arms. The woman looked up at him with wide, frightened dark brown eyes, her pupils blown wide. The Serkonan immediately recalled Jessamine on the day she died, the same look of desperation and terror on her face as her life slipped from her, her lips moving as she begged Corvo -- _Find Emily. Protect her!_

                A hot, wet pressure began to build behind Corvo's eyes. He held Emily closer, feeling something trickle down his cheek. "It's going to be alright, Emily," he whispered in a weak, hoarse voice as the woman in his arms began to whimper, in pain and terrified, closing his eyes and turning his face upwards. "I promise."

                The Empress began to cough, the sound wet and invoking pain in Corvo himself. He could almost feel the ache in his chest and throat, the same pain Emily herself no doubt was feeling, as the coughs became stronger and more violent, wracking her slender frame with great force. Emily pressed her face into Corvo's chest, her grip on his coat becoming weaker and weaker with each passing moment. She began to choke out Corvo's name; she couldn't say anything else, but Corvo knew in his heart what she wanted to say. _Why? Why would you betray me like this? Why did you_ lie _?_

Emily’s hands dropped from Corvo’s chest, and Corvo immediately regretted his instinctive glance downward; the woman’s pale face had turned purple, her lips as blue as the Void, and her hands had gone up to her throat, clawing wildly there. She was trying to vomit, that much Corvo could tell – the death Tyvian poison brought on was swift, but far from painless. Corvo saw flecks of red appear on her lips and looked away again, unable to bear the sight.

                The coughing and struggling eventually subsided into rasping as Emily struggled for breath, going limp in Corvo's arms. Corvo's jaw clenched as he fought back an anguished cry as Emily's breathing finally stopped entirely, her wheezing coming to a sudden halt. The Serkonan felt his tears pouring down his cheeks now, hot against his cold face, dripping down onto his clothes and onto the pale fabric of Emily's nightgown. It seemed to be ages before he could bring himself to untangle her corpse from his arms and gently lay her to rest on the bed, retreating back to the table and sitting down where he had taken his supper earlier.

                The tears stopped eventually and Corvo simply sat and stared, gazing off into the Void as the clock on Emily's dresser ticked away the seconds that crawled by. Each moment felt like an age, the Serkonan's entire being heavy with grief at what he'd done. He was beyond crying now, beyond his urges to scream and claw at himself, to tear at his skin and rip the agony from his soul. All he could bear to do was sit, his mind both wild with thoughts that slipped by without making themselves fully known and, somehow, painfully blank.

                The Kaldwins were all Corvo lived for. When he was eighteen he was brought to protect the then-twelve-year-old Jessamine Kaldwin, and when Emily was born, she, too, became his charge. His only purpose was to protect them. Corvo had failed at protecting Jessamine, the woman he loved dying in his arms as she bled onto the marble of the pavilion, and now Emily was gone, her corpse lying on the bed to be discovered by the guards. Perhaps this was a mistake -- perhaps a tyrannical ruler was better than none at all -- but Corvo found that he didn’t particularly care anymore. He work he had done all of his life was over. Finished. Jessamine was dead, Emily was dead, and Corvo may as well have died with them.

                Eventually, Corvo's gaze shifted over to the glasses of wine on the table. Emily's glass was half empty, but Corvo's glass was untouched. His wine, too, was poisoned, sitting there in the crystal glass with an almost sinister air about it. Without thinking, without considering what he was doing, the Lord Protector reached over and picked up the glass, lifting it to his lips and downing as much as he could. Then he set the glass back down on the table and stared back off into space, waiting for death to claim him like it had Emily.

                It came swiftly for Corvo, the effects hitting him with full force; the old man doubled over in agony, knocking over the wine glass on the table as he fell to the floor, gasping for air. His stomach twisted and churned as if someone had stabbed him and twisted the blade, his skin feeling too hot and too cold at the same time. His vision blurred and went black, and when he began to cough violently, the sounds he made sounded far away, as if someone else was coughing and Corvo was standing several yards away. Tears sprang once more from Corvo's eyes, dripping down his face and onto the marble floor below. The poison ripped through him like fire, burning through every fiber of his being.

                _Emily_. Corvo lifted his head, wheezing and coughing, his lips sticky and wet and a metallic taste coating the inside of his mouth. Emily was still lying on the bed as if she were asleep -- _oh, Outsider, she's only asleep, let her only be asleep --_ and Corvo found himself trying to drag himself in her direction, reaching for her. Emily, the girl he'd protected all her life, his _daughter_ , not only by blood but by love, if only he can hold her one more time, stroke her hair, see her smile, hear her laugh... If only he’d done better for her, then maybe it didn’t have to end like this --

                Corvo slumped against the floor, struggling to inhale. Each breath brought a stabbing pain into his lungs and it was all Corvo could do to keep his eyes open --

                He could hear voices. Jessamine, welcoming him home from his journeys to the farther reaches of the Isles. Emily, small child, crying with joy, _Corvo, you're back!_ All of the laughter of the past shared with Emily, the sweet nothings whispered in the darkness of night with Jessamine, her hair smelling of sweet perfume and wine on her lips.

                _It's a fair wind that brings you home to me._

                Corvo's eyes slipped shut, warmth washing over him as his trembling body slowly stilled. He could smell sea salt, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth turning sweet, like Serkonan wine --

_Corvo... Let me whisper something in your ear... I love you!_

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a suggestion from one of my friends; what if Corvo had to kill Emily after the High Chaos ending? So I took that plotline and ran with it.


End file.
